


Birds of a Feather

by FlatlandDan



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Handcuffs, Hangover, Oral Sex, PWP, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlatlandDan/pseuds/FlatlandDan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This looks bad.</p><p>I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, but I still know this looks bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds of a Feather

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lanyon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/gifts).



> For lanyon, who saved my bacon by requesting "ClintxKate, something with snark and fluff and some kind of trope, like handcuffed together..."

This looks bad.

I can’t bring myself to open my eyes, but I still know this looks bad. I feel her curled against me, the slight contact of skin where our shirts have both rucked up, and it’s almost nice to enough to distract me from the feeling of metal holding my arm up. If it wasn’t for that feeling I’d probably stay like this for a while longer, but that feeling overrides pretty much everything for me. Once you’ve been handcuffed once or twice in my job you get over thinking of it as “kinky” and start having associations with broken bones. Her skin sure does feel soft though.

Alright, Hawkeye. Just a peak.

We’re in my apartment, in the living room, and Lucky is chowing down on the remains of a pizza still in the box two feet away from me. We’re handcuffed together, but the chuffs just caught on the doorknob and not attached to anything. My arm hurts, so her arm probably hurts as well, but when I move to take them down so we’re at least not hooked on a doorknob, so even if I don’t know what the hell is going on we’re more comfortable her eyes screw shut and she starts moving her mouth to get a taste out.

“Good morning, Hawkeye.” I ask cautiously. Her eyes open briefly before she screws them shut.

“Ugh. I’m not sure about the good part, Hawkeye. You remember what happened last night?”

“Just putting the pieces together, Girly girl. Tony’s birthday?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Cool”

“Not cool. I remember mead and Thor and Thor’s penis.”

“Man, I’m glad I don’t remember any of that.”

“Weirdly, I don’t remember being handcuffed to you.”

“Yeah, it’s kinda weird.”

“You’re comfy though.” She’s turned into me now that our arms are down, pulling my handcuffed arm so it’s around her back and her can put her head on my shoulder. I can feel her breath on my neck and it’s just as soft as her skin is. I close my eyes because this, this really is bad. This is contact I’ve been trying to avoid for a few months now.

“I don’t suppose you have the key?” I ask, hopeful.

“If these are my cuffs then yeah, I should have it in my bag.”

“Do I want to know why you carry cuffs around?”

“Because we haven’t figured out a way of putting them in an arrow yet.” I can tell she’s smiling, I can feel she’s smiling against my shoulder and dammit it makes me smile as well. Lucky is smiling too, but that’s because he’s eating all the pizza we apparently bought drunk last night.

“I think we should find your bag.”

“Ugh, no. That would require moving. I can’t move right now, Clint. I can’t.” I try and shift a little but she’s a dead weight on me and, did I mention the hangover that’s settling in? Yeah my head is thumping in that typical post mead way that reminds me that I’m mortal about once a month.

“Would you consider moving for aspirin and water?” She huffs a little against me and I take it as a sign that yes, she would be agreeable to that. The thing about her imitating a small animal attached to my shoulder is that when I sit up she sits up with me and when I stand up she clings as if I was her shelter in a storm. Left foot, right foot and I try not to think too much about how my arm fits around her waist before we’re at the fridge. I keep a water bottle and a big bottle of aspirin in the door because I’ve been here before.

“I want a bed.” She says firmly, her eyes open and pleading as I swallow a pill and shove one into her hand. She takes a gulp of water and a little stays on her lips and, Jesus, I’m going to hell.

“Yeah, but handcuffs.”

“I’m wearing your sweatpants, which means I probably got changed in your room, which means my stuff is probably next to your bed.” Her logic is flawless except for the fact that it’s going to involve us going into my room. “Come on, Hawkeye. I promise not to make fun of your Captain America sheets.”

I don’t have Captain America sheets, just so you know. Yeah, ok, they’re purple. But I rock purple and they’re dark enough to hide stains. 

We navigate to my bedroom, salvaging what’s left of the pizza along the way, and even if her bag isn’t in here it’s darker and cooler and when she falls into my bed I fall in after her.

“Oh god, this is so much better.”

“I didn’t see your bag.”

“I really don’t care. Are these bamboo sheets? These are so nice. Why do you have nicer sheets then I do?” I shrug, which I realise is totally useless because it’s dark but she’s Hawkeye as well so she knows I shrugged. I start thinking about trees falling in the forest and wondering if I could get away without shrugging and she would just know, intrinsically, that I would have shrugged...

“Stop thinking, Hawkeye.”

“Aren’t you worried about your bag?” I counter. I’m worried about her bag. I’m worried about having to call a locksmith or Thor and his hammer because now I’m thinking about Thor’s penis and I think I have a hard on and I’m in bed with Kate and...

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes are bright and her face is three inches away from mine, worried. Her face is three inches away from mine because she’s rolled on top of me and yup, I definitely have wood now.

“I wasn’t supposed to happen like this.” I blurt out and then, because I’m that smart, I roll over so I can hide my face a little. End result? I roll Kate with me and yeah, now we’re wrapped around each other and her face is still three inches from mine. She looks less worried and more...she’s smiling a little.

“I didn’t quite hear that, Hawkeye.” Her voice is soft (like her skin, like her breath, like everything about her that she lets me see when we’re alone and she’s disarmed herself) and I smiled back at her, just a little smile, as she reaches up to brush something off my face.

“That’s my line, Hawkeye.”

“Idiot” she mouths and then leans to kiss me. Katie tastes like bourbon and pizza and that’s good because I think I probably taste the same. I risk a hand on her waist and she grinds into my hard dick and ok, as long as we’re both on the same page I’m not going to turn to another one. I smile into the kiss and she grins back.

“What are you playing at, Girly girl?” I ask her once I get full use on my mouth back. Her body is still pressed against mine, her hand still over mine as I rub small circles over her hip.

“You’ve taught me so many lessons over the last few years, I thought it was time I taught you one.”

“What’s that?”

“Despite your best efforts, you’re good enough for me.”

Oh, it’s on.

I sit up and pull her onto lap, trapping the hands that are cuffed together between us and move my other hand up her back even as I go in for another, harder kiss. Bras have been easy since I was twelve, just two little clasps, but once I get it undone I don’t know how to get her out of it or her shirt.

“Cut them,” she breathes into my ear as her she pops the button on my jeans. Did I mention I love her? Because as I reach for the arrowhead under my pillow she pulls off her top and Jesus, I love her. I love the way she’s moving now, as if being handcuffed and hungover is nothing. She gets her shirt off and pulls mine off as well like it’s nothing because it is nothing we can’t handle. Give us Hawkeyes an obstacle...

She hold the bra and shirts tight between us, the arrowhead slices through them, and she throw the clothes into a heap as I send the arrowhead into the wall. It makes a satisfying thunk, but not anywhere near as satisfying as the noise Kate makes when I suck hard on one of her nipples. I think I’ve distracted her but nope, her hand is back undoing the zipper and my dick is in her hand and now it’s my turn to moan and she pulls it out and starts jacking me off.

Pants, we have to get out of pants fast. I move my hand down her back and tug at them even as my other hand is reaching into the sweatpants she’s wearing. I touch the lace trim of her underwear and rake my teeth over her nipple so that her shudder masks mine even as she pulls back and kneels so she can get out of pants. I take the hint and get out of mine, fast enough that I can pull her in and shift her under so I can press her into the mattress. She still has her underwear on, a lighter shade of purple then my sheets and made out of the flimsiest fabric I’ve even seen. I want to see how wet I can make them, how wet I can make her, so pull our handcuffed hands up to hold onto the headboard, start sucking on the breast I’ve go far ignored and let me free hand go under that fabric. One finger inside her and my thumb against her clit and I get more of a groan then a moan. It’s beautiful. I want more.

“Gotta taste you, Kate. I gotta.” I mumble into her chest as I kiss down her sternum and pull our cuffed hands down so they rest on the bed.

“Oh Jesus, yes,” she replies and her hand tangles into my hair as I move down her body. I take my fingers out of her underwear and pull it down to her knees, knowing she’ll have it down before my mouth her more than a few inches further down. They’re off before I hit her belly button. That’s my girl. 

I don’t make a big deal out of it when I get there, don’t tease her by kissing the inside of her thigh, just start lapping at her clit because I’m just so damn grateful that she doesn’t shave she trims and that sort of thing deserves a reward in these modern times. Her hand is still in my hair, not pushing, just lightly carding from root to tip and I let the tip of my tongue slip inside her just to see what she’ll do. Buck her hips, apparently, and I know that made her feel good so it do it again and again until she’s shaking against me, her hand has stopped moving through my hair and she’s groaning my name through clenched teeth. I can tell when she loses it, a sweet taste on my lips and my name on hers. I look up at her through my eyelashes and it’s all suddenly perfect. Not the way I ever would have predicted it, but her hand starts moving again in my hair, pulling me up and I taste her one last time before I let her move me up and roll me over. She sits on my hips, my still hard dick resting under her and grins.

“My turn,” she says as she leans over the bed and come back up with a small pack of condoms, that wicked smile still on her face. She leans up and and I meet her halfway for a kiss even as she takes our cuffed hands and wraps mine around hers and them both around my shaft. It feels surreal, like I’m giving myself a hand job with the softest hands I’ve ever felt. I tighten mine a bit and feel hers respond, move it slightly lower so it rubs against the base and yeah, yeah this is the best hand job I’ve had. I start feeling my balls tighten and I guess she does too because she lets go and pulls back from the kiss at the same time, twists herself under our cuffed arm and around so that my hand is on her breast and her back is to me. I sit up and mouth at her neck, careful not to leave any marks and try not to sigh too loud as she rolls the condom on. She moves her whole body forward and then sinks down onto me and yeah, yeah then I exhale a breath I didn’t know I was holding and move my hips slowly forward. She tight, just a little, but I start rocking my hips more and she’s pushing back, leaning into my arm that’s still across her chest to change the angle and roll with my thrust. It’s breathtakingly good and I start rubbing her nipple, twirling the nub between my fingers even as kiss up to her jaw bone. This is going to be over soon, I know it. I was so damn close before and this sentation leaves that one in the dust, but if I’m going to go I’m going to take her with me. I move my uncuffed hand over her hip and start rubbing her clit, soft because I know she’ll still be sensitive but just enough so that I know if I hit her right it’ll take her over the edge. She leans forward into my touch, changes the angle one last time and I’m deep in her now, pounding into her as she pushes hard onto me. I press my face against hers as I feel her clamp down on an instroke, feel my ball tighten and my mind explode a few thrusts later as I cum inside her. We’re both panting as she reaches up and cups one side of my head, turning it so we can kiss while I go soft.

It’s quiet as I pull out and we flop next to each other, the condom tied off and dumped on the floor. There’s nothing uncomfortable about it, the room full of the warm sated feeling I get when she comes over and we order too much food and start feeling sleepy.

“Huh,” I say, slowly feeling like I’m coming back into my body.

“How’s the hangover?” Katie asks, reaching over me for the water.

“Good. Fine. I want some of the water don’t drink it all. Where did you get the condoms from?” She pauses mid reach and I think I see the beginnings of a blush spreading across her face. She abandons the goal of the water and reaches down to drag her purse out from under the bed, pulls a small key out from inside and holds it between two fingers as she rolls back across me. “Did you know where it was all along?” I ask her.

“Not until I tossed the shirts on the floor, no, but....” she pauses, my beautiful soft Hawkeye, and chews her bottom lip tensely. “I was hopeful.” I reach over, pluck the key out of her hand, and uncuff us before pulling her close against me again. 

“You know, this is better than how this was suppose to happen. There is less alien sex pollen.” She bursts out laughing against me and I giggle along with her, brushing her hair out of her face before kissing her again. There is no urgency now, just a small bubble of comfort around us..

“I remember how we got handcuffed together. You said you didn’t want to lose me on the walk home. Birds of a feather, or at least I think that’s what you wanted to say.”

“Classy.”

“I thought it was sweet.” We’re back to the lazy kissing for a few minutes before she breaks it off. “Do you want to do this again, Hawkeye?” she asks, pulling away to put her head on the pillow next to me. I pull the sheets and the blanket over us and let my arm rest over her. She is the most beautiful creature, the most beautiful, talented, intelligent hawk, the world has ever produced. And she’s picked me

“Sorry Hawkeye, even without the handcuffs you’re stuck with me.”

“Birds of a feather, Hawkeye.”

“Birds of a feather, Hawkeye.” She smiles at me and I smile right back. Things are never as bad as they look.


End file.
